


Summer Storm

by fluidstatic



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: F/M, Origin Story, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-31
Updated: 2009-07-31
Packaged: 2019-03-30 12:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13951641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluidstatic/pseuds/fluidstatic
Summary: Balthier dreams of the storm that brought Fran to his bed.





	Summer Storm

28th of Holymoon, 697 O.V.

The Naldoan Sea

The sky over the sea was black and violet with storm clouds, and a threat of lightning scented the air. Ffamran banked the Strahl slowly, wheeled her around to point out of the wind, and touched down in the dark, choppy water.

"We shouldn't fly any farther in this weather." He looked over at Fran apologetically. "We'll make Bhujerba in time for a hot breakfast. You have my word."

She tilted her head at him. "Do not be troubled. I am well accustomed to camping, I assure you."

They moved from the cockpit to the cabin in silence, as was their habit. Ffamran removed his shirt, sat down on the edge of his bunk, and began to unlace his boots. Fran lay back on her bunk on the other side of the cabin and gazed at the ceiling, one hand pillowed behind her head.

She blinked. "My sister was wrong about you."

Ffamran frowned. "About . . . me?"

She glanced sidelong at him. "Humes. They are not all cruel and power-hungry, as she would have me believe."

Ffamran thought faintly of his father, and chuckled humorlessly at the irony. "Heh. Yes, well, I like to think myself a renegade in that respect."

He looked over at her, and for the first time, she smiled. Her whole face radiated with light, her small white teeth flashing against her dark skin. He found himself transfixed. He had never seen anything so perfect. He knew it was not Viera custom to smile, for their society found it vulgar, but it was clear to him that this Viera was different. Very different.

The smile vanished as quickly as it had dawned. She twitched one of her long, white ears.

"I have offended you?"

Startled, he frowned at her. "Of course not. How could you ever offend me?"

She blinked at him. "Your eyes have gone still. I cannot read them."

Ffamran tried to sound nonchalant, but he was annoyed to catch himself flushing. "Oh? I didn't realize."

"No." She twitched her other ear. "I understand."

She looked back at the ceiling. To cover his sudden anxiety, Ffamran pretended to yawn and looked out the window at the torrential rain.

"I understand," Fran repeated, glancing over at him. "You desire me."

He flinched in spite of himself. The word was so exactly spot-on that it felt as though he had been punched in the stomach. He wanted her so badly it was like a physical pain. He tried to rebound, failed, and began to laugh, in a desperate attempt to cover his tracks.

"Ah. I . . . desire you, do I?" He raised his eyebrows at her, hoping she would decide otherwise.

She did not smile in return. She just fixed her bottomless crimson eyes on his face and began to unhinge him.

"Do you not?"

Ffamran's throat closed, and he forced himself to look away from her. How ironic. For months he had flitted from one aerodrome to the next, and when he was lonely all he needed to do was glance sidelong at a girl and smile. More often than not she would be swooning before he even opened his mouth to say hello. This was the strange curse that his good looks had beset upon him, and he had used it to his advantage when the mood struck him. His keen wit had also served him well when it came to women; if a girl was unimpressed by his looks, all he had to do was engage her in casual conversation, slip in a clever and flattering remark about her various merits, and look at her quietly for a moment. The rest seemed to happen on its own.

Now, the ease with which he'd previously seduced women was a distant mirage. His looks alone didn't seem to have the immediate effect on Fran that he would have liked, and even if his sharp tongue did decide to obey him now, he knew she would see straight through him. Fran was dismantling him with her eyes, one liquid-ruby blink at a time, and he couldn't fall apart fast enough. For all he knew she could hear his heart beating in his chest, and the thought terrified and thrilled him all at once. He found himself overwhelmed with two very strange, conflicting urges: to either cross the room and kiss her hungrily, or to lay his head in her lap and weep.

Damn it all.

She sat up and studied him for a long, unfathomable moment. She held her ears perfectly erect, and her face was completely still. Her beautiful eyes flicked over his face, and he fought with all of his will to keep it devoid of emotion.

Fran blinked at last, and said, very softly, "It would seem that you are falling in love with me."

Ffamran felt his heart leap into his mouth and the color drain from his face at the same time. He had misheard her, surely; perhaps he was dreaming. But if ever there was a moment to face her with this, it was now. If she rejected him he would fall apart - perhaps simply cease to exist - but he would risk it. He had to, because if by some miracle she did not reject him...

He forced himself to look directly into her eyes, and a wild desperation overtook him.

"I've never seen anything quite so beautiful as you. If I look at you too long I find I want to fly as far from you as possible."

Her beautiful eyes grew slightly sad, reaching out to him, breaking him down even further.

"Why?"

"It's what sky pirates do, Fran; they fly." He smiled painfully. "You terrify me." He watched her beautiful eyes search his face as she tried to comprehend this fractured outburst. He was losing his grip.

"I don't deserve you, Fran." His voice cracked, and he tried again. "I don't..."

Ashamed at finding his heart firmly on his sleeve and fighting the sudden, inexplicable tears burning in his eyes, he bowed his head.

"Forgive me."

The cabin was silent except for the drumming of rain on the fuselage. Somewhere in the distance, far beyond the ship, a bird called once into the storm.

Fran rose from her bunk and crossed the room to stand in front of Ffamran. Reluctantly, he looked up at her and, to his complete frustration, a tear slid down his cheek. She stared into his eyes for a moment, her own sparkling with desire, like nothing Ffamran had ever seen.

She blinked once and tried to speak, her voice hoarse.

"You. . . "

She stopped herself, knelt before him, and brushed the tear from his cheek.

"You deserve me."

She hesitated, and then bent her head to kiss him.

Ffamran held his breath and waited for the terrible jolt of reality, for something to break into the dream and shatter it. Miraculously, the kiss deepened; he felt the dam in his chest break and he drew Fran into his arms. He pressed his lips to her shoulder, the scent of her skin enveloping and filling him at once. She turned her head away from him to expose her long neck to his mouth, laid one hand on his bare shoulder and, with the other, silently took the clasp from her hair.

Balthier woke in the navigator's chair, startled to consciousness by the sounds of a storm raging outside the ship. Rain poured down the windows in rivulets, golden beams from the ship's landing lights casting strange shadows on the walls and floor of the cabin. It appeared that Fran had landed the ship in the water while he slept.

He glanced over at the captain's chair; it was empty. He turned to look into the cabin abaft and saw Basch asleep on Fran's bunk. Ashe had taken his. He smiled.

He rose and carefully made his way through the cockpit, then crossed the cabin as near to silently as he could. When he reached the engine room he hesitated, then very quietly turned the door handle.

Fran slept on the floor in a makeshift nest crafted from various spare blankets and cushions, beautifully spotlighted in the odd half-light coming through the windows. She made a small humming noise and turned slightly in her sleep. Her hands were cradled loosely near her face, and her chest rose and fell with her breath; now and again one of her ears twitched.

Balthier very slowly crept into the engine room, careful not to make a sound. He crossed to her, knelt gingerly, and brushed a wisp of hair off her forehead.

She opened her eyes and smiled softly, whispered to him. "You are awake."

He looked back over his shoulder, out the front window. "Ironic, isn't it. A summer storm over the Naldoan sea..."

She blinked, her eyes glittering, reflecting the rain. "You remember it, too."

He laid his hand over his heart and nodded, a lump in his throat. "I could never forget."

She laid her hand to his cheek, and the smile that was so beautiful and rare broke across her face.

"My sweet Balthier."

After a heartbeat's pause, he lay down on the floor beside her, and she put her arm around his waist. Her scent, sandalwood and pine, drifted over him.

She whispered in his ear. "Lady Ashe and the Captain will find us this way come morning."

Balthier closed his eyes. "Let them."


End file.
